Christmas Delights Read online

  “There’s a proper manor house inside the walls, rather than an old keep,” he said. “The stone walls are a restored shell from the days when England was at war with France.”

  “Like your story,” Penelope said to Victoria. “Will you tell me more?”

  “Tonight, when I tuck you in,” Victoria promised.

  Lewis lifted a brow but didn’t ask a question. They skirted the edge of the lake, watching the water undulate like liquid silver in a bed of mother of pearl. It seemed colder here, and Victoria could see her breath in the carriage. The four of them gusted little puffs of smoke into the air like dragons taken human form. She expected if her fairytale characters had seen a machine like Mr. Noble’s horseless carriage, they’d have fought it with swords and maces as if it were the fabled creatures.

  The bridge lay open over a moat between the curving road and the Fort. The tall, crenellated walls flashed golden yellow under the weak sunlight, and Victoria felt like they had entered an enchanted place.

  But when she turned back and saw Mr. Noble, leaving black streaks on his cheek as he thoughtfully scratched with a finger, and smelled the machine oil emanating from him, it seemed all too real. Like home even, because her father often smelled of the same sort of substances—machine oil and dye and hard work—even though he only spent time in his offices.

  Mr. Noble and Eddy Jackson separated from them, jumping out of the carriage as soon as they pulled up on the shell-lined drive in front of the main house behind the castle wall, a tidy red-brick rectangle that appeared to be about a hundred years old. Eddy waved at them with an open smile, but Lewis only nodded absently before they vanished around the side of the house. Footmen led the carriage around the drive, and maids took Victoria and Penelope into the house, where they were greeted in the morning parlor by the Countess of Bullen, the present earl’s mother. The lady, thin and upright, her graying hair coifed over a narrow face, instructed a maid to pour tea.

  She gestured for them to sit across from her on a firm-cushioned sofa. “I’m sorry you’ve missed my daughter, Lady Allen-Hill. She’s shopping on the High Street, but I’m sure she’ll be back in time for tea. Did you have trouble in the snow? We expected you yesterday.”

  Victoria and Penelope seated themselves on the yellow satin settee across from the countess’s straight-backed chair with its embroidered cushion. She scarcely knew this connection of her late husband yet had the sense of being dropped into the middle of a long conversation.

  “We only made it as far as Brighton on the train,” Victoria confirmed. “We came into Polegate from there with Miss Rose Redcake and spent the night at her family home.”

  “Ah, yes. We’ll see them tomorrow at the masquerade ball.”

  “Yes. We picked up Mr. Noble on the way here.”

  The countess smiled faintly, her upper lip losing little of its network of wrinkles in the process. “Mr. Noble and my son are cut from the same cloth. Men of machinery. They breathe nuts and bolts and tools.”

  “They were bent over a horseless carriage when we drove by,” Victoria agreed.

  “Mr. Noble and my son?”

  “No, I’m sorry. Mr. Noble and Eddy Jackson.”

  “Who is . . . ?” the countess inquired.

  “His apprentice. I believe the carriage belongs to the Marquess of Hatbrook.”

  “I did hope the Shield men would come and bring their ladies for a long stay, but of course Lord Judah’s heir only came into the world last month, and the marchioness is expecting another small treasure sometime in the spring.”

  “They are all probably more comfortable at home,” Victoria agreed.

  “Yes, those times can be most vexing, and one does want to sleep in one’s own bed. But of course you weren’t blessed.”

  “No,” Victoria said politely. “I wasn’t.”

  “I did not hear who inherited your husband’s title.”

  “A cousin. He resides in Bath. I’ve never met him.”

  “Such a pity,” the countess murmured. “I have done my best to deliver a selection of gentlemen to the holiday proceedings, my dear. My son is too involved in his projects to travel to London, and my daughters have not had much opportunity to be in society.”

  Victoria brightened. If Lewis Noble was a sample of the men to be present, she ought to have a wonderful time. “Will your son be attending the house party?”

  The countess sighed. “I expect he’ll be holed up in the stables with Mr. Noble. Now, there is a waste of a handsome gentleman.”

  “A waste?” Victoria’s wrist wobbled as she lifted her teacup to her mouth.

  “They say he is ever pining for some lost love. He never even looks at a woman. One of my daughters would be perfect for him. He could spend even more time with my son if he lived here with us.” The countess put a hand to her mouth to cover her emotional outburst.

  “He looked at my cousin,” Penelope said, speaking for the first time.

  Victoria slid her body into an angle on the seat to look at her cousin. The countess dropped her hand in shock.

  “He did,” Penelope insisted. “You’d think she was displaying her bosom, the way his gaze fixed on her.”

  “Penelope!” Victoria gasped.

  “It’s true.” Penelope’s eyes were wide with childish innocence. “He did look at you, the entire drive here, at least when you weren’t looking at him.”

  The countess pressed her lips together. “If you can capture Mr. Noble’s attentions, I assure you that you will be the envy of every young woman at the party. He’s considered quite untouchable.”

  “I expect it was more a case of his scientist’s mind assessing me,” Victoria said, feeling sour as she recalled how much her body had changed.

  “You’ll see at dinner,” Penelope said. “He’ll be at dinner, won’t he?”

  “They often take meals in the stable. But I have insisted, you know, with guests present, that they stir themselves. Surely they can both take enough time away from their machines to settle their affections. It is not right for young men in small societies to stand apart from the ladies.”

  “Gentlemen do as they wish,” Victoria said.

  “Then there is your father,” the countess said. “He has been widowed a great many years.”

  “I believe my mother’s death was devastating to him,” Victoria said. So this was to be a true matchmaking paradise, this party. Were any of the men aware of the countess’s plans?

  “That was more than a decade ago.”

  “Eleven years,” she agreed.

  “It must have been difficult to go through your wedding without her,” said the countess.

  “My father is very good to me, but it is true that I have a dearth of female relatives.”

  “Is the new baronet unattached?” the countess wondered.

  “Yes, though I do not think he ever leaves Bath,” Victoria admitted.

  “Such a waste.” The countess brightened. “But we do have a selection of fine gentlemen from locally and far away.”

  “Oh?” She noticed Penelope, looking bored, had worried at the edge of one satin cushion. Wincing, she saw a tiny tear in the fabric. She put her hand over the girl’s to prevent her from causing further damage.

  “We have been graced by the Baron of Alix, from Edinburgh. A lovely young man whose brother recently married into the Shield family. We met him at a party at Hatbrook Farm several months ago. Of course, he is distantly related to us as well.”

  “I’ve never met him,” Victoria said.

  The countess touched one index finger to the other, as if counting her guests. “Have you met the Dickondells? Clement and Ernest are the older young gentlemen. Very friendly with my daughters. Samuel will be here, too, but he’s just twenty.”

  “No.”

  “Clement was at school with my son, which is how we came to know him; he is just a year younger. Very eligible.”

  “So that is five, no, six eligible men.” But mostly from the same fami
ly. Still, two titles.

  “Your father, of course, but not for you.”

  “I don’t imagine he’ll see himself as a prospect.”

  “A woman must have wiles, my dear. I thought of him for one of my daughters, though Lady Florence, my husband’s sister, will probably make a play. She’s incorrigible.” The countess sighed into her teacup.

  “I look forward to meeting her,” Victoria said sweetly. The pickings here did not come to much. Two inventors, three locals, and a Scottish baron. She had promised herself a dalliance before remarrying according to her father’s wishes, hopefully at some point in the distant future. He wanted someone to run the factories when he was gone, but he was not old yet. She wanted fun with a man she found attractive. The two goals were unlikely to mesh. She deserved some pleasure after being shut up in her father’s Liverpool mansion for a year and a half after a month spent nursing Humphrey. He hadn’t even found a home for them because they had planned a honeymoon excursion to Italy before building themselves a house. He had died in her father’s house, and there she had remained until this very week.

  So, she’d make a play for Lewis. With any luck, his sensual side would come out at night. Her next husband would not expect to find her a virgin, so why should she be one? She’d even packed precautions.

  “We can hope for more guests,” the countess said, looking at her with a puzzled expression. Had she been visibly woolgathering? “I admit there are a few too many females. My daughters and sister-in-law; Maud Wilson, the Dickondell cousin, who is nineteen and very pretty. Rose Redcake will likely be around quite a lot. She is particular friends with Adela Dickondell, who at seventeen should not really be invited, but that family does come as a package.”

  “Seven females of eligible age, then,” Victoria counted. “You have set up an even complement.”

  “Adela and Lady Florence should not be counted.”

  “They should be if they are in on the game.”

  The countess tittered. “You are blunt.”

  “I’m a northerner. Sometimes I forget my pretty manners,” Victoria admitted.

  “We do need one more man for the table,” the countess said, “as I do not like to eat alone in my rooms. I had not realized Miss Redcake meant to stay for the entire party until today. I have instructed my son to cable a selection of his friends. Someone is sure to come, or perhaps one of the masquerade guests will want to stay. Will your father arrive soon?”

  “I certainly hope so.”

  “We can do nothing more for now. I shall have you taken to your rooms. Would you like Penelope to stay in the nursery?”

  “Are there other children in residence?” The answer was, of course, yes, but she didn’t want her cousin to be completely isolated.

  “We could ask Matilda Redcake to stay,” the countess said in a low voice. “She has that son. He is two years old.”

  “Not much of a companion for a nine-year-old.”

  “No, no, and we really shouldn’t encourage Matilda, despite the Redcake money.”

  Victoria sighed. “She will have to stay with me, then, unless suitable children arrive.”

  “Very well. But we’ll have a nursery maid take charge of her during the day, and I’ll think of someone I can invite in from the village to play with her. I promised Sir Humphrey, you know, that I would see to your future as best I could. I was his favorite aunt, you see, and he wrote me on his deathbed.”

  “I wasn’t aware,” Victoria murmured.

  “I could do nothing until you had mourned. But now . . .” The countess dropped her empty teacup into its saucer with a brisk clatter. “It’s time to find another husband for you.”

  The countess rang a bell and instructed the maid who answered to take Victoria and Penelope upstairs.

  The room they were led to had country charm, though the battlements blocked the sight of the bay beyond. But it was just a single room, without a sitting room. How was she going to have any fun when she had to share a bed with a nine-year-old? She would have to hope her male counterparts weren’t as marriage minded as her father or the countess, and that they could find a creative way to help her lose her virginity.

  CHAPTER 3

  Lewis set his lamp on the table next to the comfortable brown velvet chair in his room. He could imagine himself falling into it, putting up his feet on the ottoman, and sleeping for the rest of the night. It would be good enough for him after such a long day. He would take that bargain instead of having to listen to the features of the room described and allow the footman to valet for him.

  But he could never stand to be rude to servants. They worked harder than he did. The man stoked the fire for him and lit a lamp next to the bed before turning down the sheets.

  “No gas or electricity in the entire building?” Lewis asked.

  “We have gas lighting downstairs, sir. Would you like me to ring for food since you missed dinner? We have kitchen service until midnight during the holiday.”

  Not much of a holiday for the kitchen staff. He didn’t want to disturb them, but his stomach growled, betraying his hunger. “Very well. Just some rolls and cheese. Nothing complicated.”

  “Very good, sir. Can I help you with your coat, find your dressing gown?”

  Somehow, the footman managed to still be in the room when the food arrived, but Lewis found himself more comfortable, his muddy, damp shoes and socks removed, a thick robe over his shirt and trousers instead of a mud-spattered coat. The long day of going back and forth between the vehicle on the road and Pevensey-Sur-Mer Fort could finally be declared over.

  The maid poured him a cup of tea and simpered at the footman. Now Lewis knew why the man had continued to find small tasks for himself for the last fifteen minutes. A romance was brewing. He’d take himself into the dressing room and give them some privacy if only Eddy wasn’t already snoring away on a cot tucked against the wall.

  He stirred himself and stood. “Thank you. That will be all.”

  The maid curtseyed and was followed out by the footman, who no longer pretended any eagerness to stay in the chilly room. The fire was inadequate, but judging by the number of blankets heaped on the bed, it wasn’t expected to get any warmer in here. But then, he was an afterthought as a guest, here on the earl’s order, rather than a true catch for the house party. Nicholas, the earl, had warned him that his mother had planned for the two-week party to be a grand event of matchmaking. They’d promised each other to steer clear of that nonsense as much as possible.

  A small clock on the mantelpiece clicked to eleven as he sat down again. In an hour it would be Christmas Eve, and then Christmas Day. When he was a boy, he’d looked forward to the holidays. Though he’d lost his parents before his majority, the season stayed a happy one, because he was welcomed into his aunt’s home. Her husband was an ambitious sort, and Lewis had put his nimble mind and mechanical hands to work for the family businesses. In his spare time, he made automatons, then became interested in horseless carriages. He’d opened a machine shop with a partner. But Alys Redcake had rejected his offer of marriage one holiday season three years earlier, and the next winter holiday had brought the sudden death of his business partner. Last Christmas had been thankfully pain-free. He and Eddy had spent it together quietly in religious observance. Trying to take the heathen out of Eddy was an uphill battle, but he’d made an effort at Christmas.

  This year, he’d relented to a more secular holiday because he couldn’t resist spending a couple of weeks assisting Nicholas with his submarine. Ever since he’d read Jules Verne as a child, he’d wanted to experiment with an underwater craft but hadn’t lived anywhere suitable for such experimentation.

  He drank down his tea and picked up a roll with ham tucked into it, wondering why he’d bothered to waste another full day on Hatbrook’s vehicle. Especially when he was the husband of the former Alys Redcake. But his money was good and the prestige of placing a horseless carriage with him was high. One of these days, he ought to stop experim
enting and just make the same vehicle more than once. He’d have fewer breakdowns that way, but the inventor in him couldn’t stop tinkering.

  A scratch came at the door. The footman again? Lewis swallowed his sandwich in one gulp and went to answer, but before he could turn the handle, he saw it start to move on its own. He stepped to the side as it opened into the shadows, and saw a ghostly figure in a billowing black wrapper and long dark curls step through.

  The door shut gently, and the woman pressed herself against the back of it, as if frightened.

  Lewis suddenly remembered he was at a house party, and hijinks were de rigueur. All he need do was lock his door to thwart the ladies, but then, he’d thought, who would come to him at this hour? Most of the women in the house were virgins.

  Dear God. Surely no one was going to try to trap him into marriage with a nighttime tryst. He went to the mantelpiece and picked up a candlestick, then marched back to the door to see who she was, since she hadn’t spoken.

  The candle first revealed a substantial bosom, heaving behind a froth of delicate lace between the open lapels of her wrapper. The tantalizing view reminded him of the lusty grocer’s widow he’d sported with after Alys had rejected him, when he’d first moved to Battersea. But then he lifted his candle higher and saw a heart-shaped face. The frank humor he’d seen in it in the carriage earlier that day had not vanished. She lifted her brow and tilted her lips humorously yet provocatively.

  “Lady Allen-Hill,” he said in a low voice, as if to speak in a normal tone might make her vanish back through the doorway, a ghost only imagined.

  She put her hands to her belt tie, which only served to throw his attention to the substantial curve of her hips. My, but she had a true hourglass figure, even uncorseted. He shifted as his lower body came to attention. His throat went dry and his hand shook just once, involuntarily. A drop of wax spattered onto his wrist.

  He swore.

  She stepped forward, coming into the firelight. “Mr. Noble, did you burn yourself ?”

  He set the candle down next to his teapot and tugged off the small piece of wax. “It was nothing.”